


fall onto love like a sword

by crownsandbirds



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Curses, Forests, Multi, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-12 01:05:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: "The forest is as beautiful as a breaking heart.Ging should know. He has seen many in his lifetime - both forests and broken hearts."in which a legendary rogue unwillingly makes a deal with a fairy prince, a king keeps the souls of his knights in an iron vault and one should always mind their feet.





	1. forests and games

**Author's Note:**

> "Okay, so I’m the dragon. Big deal.  
> You still get to be the hero.  
> You get magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights!  
> What more do you want?"
> 
> (litany in which certain things are crossed out - richard siken)

The forest is as beautiful as a breaking heart.

 

Ging should know. He has seen many in his lifetime - both forests and broken hearts. 

 

Kite is suspicious, but Kite is, as a rule, wary of absolutely everything that stands on the Earth other than animals and Ging. He stays just a step behind, clutching at Ging's sleeve, face hidden by his shimmering curtain of silver hair. 

 

"Hey, it's okay," Ging says, reaching behind himself to pet Kite's head. "It's just a forest. Nothing we haven't seen before."

 

"Not just a forest. There are... things here," Kite whispers, the hushed tone of his voice sounding like the water running in a riverbank. 

 

Ging chuckles and pulls him closer, an arm wrapped around his waist. Sometimes he feels as if Kite is going to fly away from his grasp, a creature too wonderful and skittish for a being like him. He wonders if it would hurt him, to not have Kite by his side anymore. There's a reason why King Netero never got his hands on Ging's soul, and the reason is that no one is sure if he owns one of those. 

 

"Of course there are. There are always special things in places like this. Where do you think I got you, honey?"

 

Kite blushes at the gentle teasing, a pale, soft blue dusting his cheekbones, but he shakes his head. "This is different."

 

The wind rustles the leaves and sounds like bright, mean chimes. A silver dragonfly hovers in the air in front of Ging's nose, moving in sharp, quick little shifts of the foggy air, here one second and there the other. 

 

He wonders if he can touch it. 

 

"How is it different?" he asks Kite idly, hardly paying attention. His eyes follow the dragonfly - no matter how fast it is. Ging's mother used to tell him he had elvish eyes, big and curious, the color of the earth after rain, too quick and sharp for daily lives. 

 

"Can't you hear the laughter?", Kite asks, and he sounds scared enough that Ging spares him a glance. 

 

The wind stops. 

 

Ging pushes Kite to stay behind him and reaches to take hold of his knife, only to find his hands empty and the blade dangling in front of his face, the handle secure between long, pale fingers. 

 

"Sharp eyes, yes, but not very good at listening, are you?" a voice like holiday bells and bloody glass shards taunts. 

 

Ging looks up. 

 

The fairy is the prettiest thing Ging has ever seen in his life. Their wings would be near invisible, translucent as they are, but silver threads run through all their span, and they glisten in the sunlight. Dragonfly wings, quick and impossible to catch. A perfect match for milky-white skin and blonde hair that goes down to their chin, their face so beautiful it appears as if it was drawn by a particularly skilled artist. They would be perfect, flawless in their outworldly beauty, if it weren't for the sheer coldness of their eyes, made even more obvious by the playful glint of mean mischief. 

 

Kite pulls at Ging's clothes. Ging takes a single step back.  

 

"Who are you?" he asks. 

 

The fairy laughs breathily. Their laughter is the wind that rustles the trees. Their lips look soft, but turn sharp in a cruel grin. "Who are  _ you _ , beautiful traveler? My, are you lost?"

 

Everything Ging has ever heard about fairies comes rushing back into his mind.  _ Don't trust them. Don't tell them your name. Don't ask anything of them.  _ "I don't know," he settles for saying, "are we?"

 

The fairy spins Ging's knife around their fingers, throws it up and down, licks the very tip of the blade. Ging is entranced. "You were walking with such a delightful certainty in your steps. I would be loathe to assume anything."

 

"Then why did you ask?"

 

The fairy laughs again, the blunt question seemingly taking them by surprise. "Well," they drawl out, "it seemed polite to offer my help in case you  _ were _ lost. I have a fair knowledge of the area."

 

Kite shakes his head from where he's hiding behind Ging. "No, tell them to leave us alone."

 

That calls the fairy's attention. Quickly their wings flap (it's a breathtaking sight, however brief, as if the sunlight is dancing on air) and a second later they're much closer than they should, beautiful head tilted to the side as they take into the sight of Kite. 

 

"Oh," they breathe out, a smirk bleeding on the corners of their lips, "look at you, you beautiful thing. What's a sweet nymph like you doing in a place like this?"

 

Ging snarls. "Leave him."

 

The fairy's fickle attention goes back to Ging immediately. Their eyes look much more terrifying up close. Their lips look softer. "Is he yours? Don't worry, I won't steal your pretty thing away." 

 

Ging grits his teeth. The fairy flies up to him, their noses almost touching.

 

"I'd much rather play with  _ you _ ," they whisper, and trail the tip of the blade down the curve of his jaw. "Ging Freecss, the Sea-Salt Rogue. You're more handsome in person, you know."

 

"How do you know my name?"

 

The fairy smiles. Their breath is cold against Ging's lips. "How, indeed. I wonder."

 

Their hand goes down, places the dagger back from where they stole it - for a moment, their fingers trace Ging's thigh, and Ging has to close his eyes so he won't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. 

 

He  _ wants _ to react, and Ging has never been the type to carefully take steps back and deny himself what he wants for the sake of propriety and self-preservation; however, he was raised in a port town that smelled of stories and salt, with pirates and travellers and old wise women who told him  _ stay close to the sea _ and  _ mind your feet _ and _ always carry an iron key around your neck _ and  _ don't trust the promises of a king _ and, most of all, in between memories and tarot cards and tea,  _ be careful around fairies, young boy. One should always be careful around fairies.  _

 

Ging remembers. He curls his hands into fists and waits. He won't give this fairy such an easy victory. 

 

A second later, they're gone, back to hovering in the air a few feet away, their wings flapping quickly. 

 

"How do you know my name?" Ging asks again, louder. 

 

The fairy laughs. The wind rustles the leaves once more. "Find your way out of my forest."

 

"Way out?"

 

"You said you're not lost," they say. The sunlight catches on the tiara gently placed on top of their beautiful blonde locks of hair. "I believe you. Find your way and stand on your feet and you'll find me again." 

 

"And then what?"

 

"Then I'll tell you how I know your name, and let you leave."

 

Ging crosses his arms. The small iron key he wears on a string around his neck feels cold against his skin. "I don't make deals with fairies. And I don't play games with them." 

 

The fairy's smile draws blood from the fog. "You stepped into my forest, my handsome rogue. You're already playing."

  
  



	2. keys and keyholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'It was all of our faults. We got careless." the king shrugs, downs the rest of his wine. "We're all weak for a pair of big, pretty brown eyes - granted, some of us more than others,' he adds, sparing Mizaistom a side glance."
> 
> in which a soulless knight pretends to have breakfast and his king is condescending.

"Every key has a keyhole and every keyhole has a key, and it's your damn fault that the key to all of your souls is in the hands of a rogue now."

 

Mizaistom sighs and places his teacup gently on the saucer again. "A rogue that, may I add, _you_ allowed inside your castle in the first place," he says, trying not to sound insulting. "Your Majesty," he adds as an afterthought, because he can be anything, but he will never be outright disrespectful.

 

Netero does a complicated motion with his magnificent longsword and knocks Kanzai down on the ground. “I hardly forced the man into your bed, Mizai.”

 

Mizaistom feels a surge of anger inside him. Suddenly, he wants to smash the teacup and draw blood with the shards, he wants to grab his sword - his bastard sword, as his king so lovingly nicknamed it, too heavy for anyone else to use, made specially for his calloused fingers, meant to be wielded with both hands, and not meant for close quarters because its wielder _doesn't_ fight in close quarters - and kill everyone.

 

His fingers shake where he holds his silver fork.

 

 _Don't I get to enjoy anything?_ , he asks, glancing up at the very blue sky. _Don't I get to have anything, if even for a single night?_

 

The sky doesn't give him any more answers than it did yesterday, or the day before that.

 

Maybe, he thinks as he urges his breathing to stabilize again and his hands to stop shaking into some semblance of self-control, he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't get to enjoy a beautiful, tanned boy in his bed, a boy who sings folk songs from countries across the ocean, who kisses him and laughs happily when Mizai tells him he's pretty. Maybe he already has too much: a roof under which to sleep, a purpose other than just survive to see the other day, a sword with which to defend his friends. Maybe he needs to stop asking for more.

 

He wonders when he'll learn his lesson. People like him don't get to ask for things. People like him take what they're given, and are grateful when they don't get hit in the face for talking when they're not supposed to.

 

There's the loud clang of iron against iron. Netero has disarmed Kanzai a second time. He swings his longsword idly, slashing the air, and doesn't offer a hand to help his sparring partner up.

 

“Get up, Kanzai. Get a hold of yourself. You’re dismissed,” he says. After Kanzai has dragged his battered body out of the practice area, Netero walks up to the small wooden table where Mizai is having his symbolic breakfast - the Zodiacs don’t eat, not in a human manner, ever since they relinquished their souls, but he has always found it difficult to let go of the bone-deep habit of getting up in the morning and having at least a cup of tea - and pulls a chair for himself.

 

“You want to say something. Say it.”

 

Mizaistom frowns. “Your Majesty?”

 

“You're angry. I can tell." Netero takes a bite of the bread left waiting for him on a silver plate. "Talk to me."

 

Mizaistom looks away. He doesn't like watching people eat. He doesn't like being questioned.

 

He's a bastard like his sword. Upon close inspection, everyone can see all the cracks on the iron-clad surface.

 

"Mizai."

 

Mizaistom takes a deep breath. He hates how incapable of disobeying a direct order he is. "I'm angry because _rationally_ it's not my fault. I brought the rogue to the inner chambers, yes, but it's not my fault that he slipped away and passed the guards and got inside Your Majesty's rooms and stole the key that was in _your_ possession. If I'd known I was supposed to protect the key, I would have. It was never in my possession, and I can't be blamed for losing something that wasn't in my hands in the first place."

 

Netero smiles. He takes a long sip of his goblet of wine. Mizaistom averts his gaze again.

 

"You're right."

 

Mizaistom frowns. "Pardon me?"

 

A dismissive hand gesture. The king is still smiling, the corners of his lips curled in such a way that Mizai can't figure out if he's amused or mocking him. It's often hard to say, when it comes to Netero. "It wasn't your fault. Sometimes I forget that you're too obedient for your own sake and that you only carry out directly stated orders."

 

Mizai's throat closes up with the urge to tell Netero that, in his past life, in the foreign country where everything about his childhood and adolescence happened and all his bad memories live, assuming anything meant death. Mizai doesn't assume. He doesn't presume anything. He does what he's told. He stays a step behind everyone and protects the people he cares about and kills whoever they tell him to kill and shuts out his thoughts.

 

Allowing himself to smile when the rogue unabashedly flirted with him during dinner, kissing his soft singing lips and bedding him. A sequence of decisions Mizai made for himself, with no other intent in mind besides enjoying this little miracle of a man that entered through the immense wooden doors of the castle with a forest nymph by his side and enough stories to fill up the entire night.

 

It hurts that he isn't allowed to have this. Maybe he shouldn't hurt so much, seeing as his soul isn't even in his body anymore, but he does.

 

"It was all of our faults. We got careless." the king shrugs, downs the rest of his wine. "We're all weak for a pair of big, pretty brown eyes - granted, some of us more than others," he adds, sparing Mizaistom a side glance.

 

The knight flinches. Feeling like a disappointment is familiar, old as life - still that does not remove the unpleasant weight on his chest it always gives him.

 

Netero puts his goblet on the table and crosses his arms. " _Now_ , what should we do?"

 

"What?" Mizai asks.

 

"You tell me," Netero says, and his voice comes out condescending. "There's only one option, you can't really go wrong."

 

Mizai _knows._ He's not stupid. He's very smart, as a matter of fact. It's how he stayed alive this long while commanding King Netero's Zodiacs. He would just rather not be tested right now. It's too early in the morning. "We get it back?"

 

"Yes. Go. Take Cheadle with you," he orders, and Mizaistom feels his shoulders relaxing with the reassurance of having his oldest friend by his side and direct orders to follow. "Bring me the key. And maybe bring the Sea-Salt Rogue with you, if you can. He knew some most delightful songs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the bastard sword i mentioned is a weapon from the Dark Souls game) 
> 
> also i have no idea if this chapter is good im running on three hours of sleep and pure spite

**Author's Note:**

> this stemmed from a conversation in the ging council, my own feverish imagination, and all the knowledge about fairies and fairytales i collected throughout my life. i really wanna keep writing this but i honestly can make no promises, still i hope people enjoy.


End file.
